When in Rome
by RockyMtnGal
Summary: Sheppard and McKay are captured by slavers. When sold to different owners, will they be able to reunite and escape?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** When in Rome

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never will be; this is all for fun

**Summary:** A routine meet and greet goes awry when Sheppard and McKay are captured by slavers. When sold to seperate owners, will they be able to reunite and escape?

**Rating:** PG-13

**A/N:** The rating is just to be safe. This is my first fic, so feedback is _much_ appreciated. I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, but no flames please...they burn.

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**CHAPTER 1**

"Did I mention how easily I burn?"

Lt Colonel John Sheppard sighed in exasperation. Rodney had been complaining along these same lines for the past half hour and quite frankly it was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"Yes Rodney, several times now."

"Well, it's hardly my fault that my skin is so fair."

Rolling his eyes behind dark sunglasses, John continued his scan of the horizon, once again tuning out the astrophysicist as he went on to expand upon the dangers of long term exposure to UV radiation.

Sand, that's all John had seen since the moment they stepped through the gate. They'd come to this desert in hopes of finding the nomadic traders they were told lived here. But so far all they'd seem to have found was the Pegasus Galaxy's largest sandbox. Unfortunately, there appeared to be a large concentration of a magnetic mineral in the sand that interfered with the life sign detector, making their job that much more difficult. Finding tribes of roaming traders was not a part of his skill set. On the upside, there was an old road leading out from the temple the Stargate was in, which meant that someone had built an established settlement here somewhere.

From the second he had walked out into the pulsating heat, John had hated this place. It reminded him too much of Afghanistan, with the glaring sunlight, blowing sand, and oppressive heat. Needless to say he wanted to finish this little meet and greet as quickly as possible and get off this planet before there were any more reasons to be reminded of _that_ particular hellhole.

As if in response to his black thoughts about the planet, no more than two hours from the gate Teyla had somehow managed to slip and sprain her ankle. He'd had Ronon take her back to the gate while he and McKay continued with the mission.

He was beginning to think that sending back Ronon and keeping McKay with him was a mistake. The man's incessant complaints about the weather were not conducive to helping his mood.

"Colonel, are you even listening to me?"

Sighing, he turned around to explain that, no, he wasn't listening to him; in fact he had stopped listening after the _first_ half hour of complaints.

The words died in his mouth as he saw a figure rapidly emerging from the sand behind McKay a drawn crossbow in its hands.

"Get Down!"

Bringing his P-90 to bear on the figure he watched in horror as the Cross bowman fired on his friend. The warning had come too late; Rodney only had enough time to move so that the bolt ripped into his shoulder, and not the intended target of his heart.

_Damn it!_

He opened fire. Killing the man easily, he then attempted to rush forward to where McKay was sprawled in the sand, reaching for his radio at the same time. He hadn't moved more than an inch when he felt a sharp pain explode through his skull.

As the dark quickly settled over his eyes he could only think,

_I knew I hated this planet._


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A sharp pain raced across McKay's shoulder, bringing him painfully back to consciousness. His eyes shot open in shock, only to close just as rapidly at the assault on his corneas from the harsh light.

_What had happened?_

He remembered Sheppard leading him on what could essentially be considered a forced march across that hellish desert. He'd been trying to enlighten the Colonel about the dangers of continuing the mission in that sort of environment. The heat alone was enough to make him pass out from heat exhaustion. Combine that with his low tolerance for UV radiation, the physical exertion, and his hypoglycemia and it was ass if Sheppard was trying to kill him. A flash of irritation crossed Rodney's mind as he recalled that Sheppard hadn't even been listening to the perfectly legitimate concerns.

Then the thudding pain in his shoulder suddenly flared up jolting him back to reality.

_John, what had happened to Sheppard._

His last recollection was of Sheppard shouting at him to get down and then he had felt like his shoulder was being ripped from his body. The shock and blood loss from whatever had hit him just have caused him to pass out. However, right before his slipped into unconsciousness he had thought he heard gunshots.

Once again he tried opening his eyes, more slowly this time to adjust to the glare of the harsh sunlight. As his vision slowly adjusted he was able to make out the golden glow of the sun on the sand. Judging by the terrain outside and simply the presence of that damn heat, he knew that at least he was still on that planet. Atlantis would search here first, and they had a better chance of finding out where they went if they weren't taken off planet.

Next he quickly examined his aching shoulder. He was surprised to find that it had been cleaned and bandaged. The bandages looked fresh, as there was only a small amount of blood staining them. _Still_, McKay thought, _it's probably infected. I highly doubt these Neanderthals know anything about proper medical care._

Groaning from the stiffness in his muscles and the pain arcing across his body from his shoulder, he managed to sit himself up to better take in the immediate surroundings. It appeared as if he was in some sort of moving cage. It was the size of a small cart and looking around he saw that he was surrounded by a rather haggard looking group of people. Though he supposed he didn't exactly look so great himself. Twisting his neck to look around at the people he noticed Sheppard slumped in the corner closest to him out cold.

"Colonel," he said in surprise.

He winced at the raspy nature of his voice. It was no wonder really. With the heat and blowing sand he wasn't exactly hydrated; who knew when he had last had a drink of water.

"Colonel," he managed to shout a bit louder, but there was no response from the still body.

"John!" Rodney was finally able to make himself heard over the rumbling, creaking sounds of their traveling prison. Unfortunately, this also meant that the large brutes guarding them heard as well.

Suddenly, he felt as if every part of his body were burning from the inside out. He could literally feel his insides boil as his entire body went completely ridged, every limb fully extended, eyes wide open in shock. Mercifully the sensation was brief. He gasped for breath as he slumped to the floor, the horrific pain already fading away to nothing more than a memory.

Then a harsh voice spoke from above him, "Quiet slave."

A device resembling a cattle prod was pulled out from between the bars. So, they were slaves, which certainly explained a lot. Apparently he and Sheppard had completed the mission after all, to find and meet the local traders. They just hadn't bee expecting them to be slave traders with a penchant for violence and who were looking for new merchandise.

Levering himself up with his good arm, Rodney slowly made his way over to where Sheppard was still out cold. Rodney was able to prop himself up next to his friend, where he proceeded to try and wake the unresponsive colonel. He reached over to shake Sheppard awake, and was startled to find the back of John's head had been bandaged. Rodney suspected that Sheppard had been hit on the back of the head and was now suffering a concussion. With this new development in mind, Rodney doubled his efforts to wake his friend.

"Come on John. You've slept long enough. I've I have to endure this heat so do you. Now wake…" he trailed off at the soft groan coming from Sheppard.

"M'kay?"

"Of course. Were you expecting someone else?"

Sheppard's eyes slowly opened to reveal dark bloodshot eyes. There was a glazed expression on his face and it took awhile for his eyes to focus. Looking at the dazed expression on his friend's face Rodney was almost certain it was a concussion. If that was the case then he needed to make sure Sheppard stayed awake. Keeping in mind the subtle way in which their guards had decided to keep him quiet, He kept his voice down as he spoke rapidly to Sheppard, trying to get the man to focus back on reality.

"It appears as if the locals aren't the friendly traders we were informed about. As usual the aliens of the Pegasus Galaxy seem intent on giving us the warmest of welcomes, evidenced by your head injury."

When Rodney mentioned the head injury Sheppard suddenly seemed much more alert, seeming as if he had just remembered something. Worry quickly crossed Sheppard's face and he asked about Rodney's own injuries.

"You were hit with a crossbow. Your shoulder how is it?"

Rodney scoffed, "Well it appears that since they didn't kill me they decided to try and fix the damage they caused. They must have pulled out the bolt, because my shoulder appears to be completely cleaned and wrapped. They also wrapped up your head by the way." With a sigh he went on, explaining what he thought had happened.

"It looks like they're slave traders. And based on a…confrontation I had with one of them earlier I can say with absolute certainty we've been taken as slaves."

* * *

Slaves. Great, this was all they needed.

John looked up at Rodney when he mentioned a 'confrontation,' seeing the pain in McKay's eyes he wasn't certain what to make of that. But he guessed he wouldn't like the answer.

He sighed and settled back against the bars of their new prison. Running a hand over his hair he winced at the sharp stabbing pain behind his eyes.

"Colonel?" He heard the worry in Rodney's voice and sighed.

"No worries, just a little headache." He was lying, and he knew it. It felt more like a jackhammer in his brain; probably a small concussion. Nevertheless, he tried to flash a disarming smile in Rodney's direction, but only got scowl in return.

"Really? It looks more like a concussion to me."

"Well there's not much we can do about that now is there? Now unless there's anything else I need to know I'd like to focus on getting us out of here," he snapped in irritation. The incessant squeaking of the cage was beginning to grate on his senses.

Rodney gave a harrumph but it seemed like he was going to give it a rest. But then a look of shock crossed the other man's face.

"What?" John turned to look in the direction that Rodney was starring at so intently.

Their wagon had begun to descend into a large valley, but it was what was at the bottom of that valley that had caused the look on the astrophysicist's face. John was sure he now wore a similar expression of his own.

In the middle of the huge desert valley a large river cut through the vast expanse of sand. The blue waters perfectly reflecting the color of the sky, and to either side there appeared to be lush vegetation and farmland. But directly in the middle of it all was a huge gleaming stone city. Absentmindedly, John thought it reminded him of Rome, or maybe Cairo. Heck he could even make out a building that could resemble the Colosseum.

_No, it's more like someone moved Rome and put it on the Nile._

At the front of the procession a voice called out, "Behold the great city of Amnis Levis."

And slowly they continued down the road, into the city itself.

TBC

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_A/N: RL has a way of intruding. Reviews help me write faster wink,wink, nudge, nudge_  



	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Just wanted to thanks to those who reviewed! Those reviews gave me the encouragement to get up this next chapter in spite of physics homework. Enjoy, and then let me know if you really did or not ;)

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**CHAPTER 3**

_Back in Atlantis_

Dr. Elizabeth Weir stood on the balcony outside the gate room. It was the middle of the night, and the only sounds were those of the waves and the breeze. She hadn't been able to sleep, so she came here, where she always came when there was a team missing. Elizabeth's sighed into the darkness as she thought over the events of the day.

The worry that settled in her gut when Teyla had told her that Sheppard and McKay hadn't radioed in during the last checkpoint had only gotten worse as the day went on. The team that was sent to see where the missing men had gotten to hadn't brought back encouraging news. Several patches of stained blood had been found at a two hours walk from the gate. Samples of the blood had been taken for testing. Elizabeth drew her hope from the fact that no bodies had been found as of yet. Why was it that when something went wrong off world it nearly always happened to her lead team?

With a final look at the stars and the waves, Elizabeth turned. She knew she should get some rest. Tomorrow would be an even more stressful day as they expanded the search with the puddle jumpers to include more of the planet.

* * *

_City of Amnis Levis_

The city was incredible. Two giant stone guardians stood to either side of the city's main gate. Huge stone and brick buildings towered overhead, many entryways lined with fluted columns. Mixed in among the majestic architecture and statuary was the reality that this was a living city. People bustled to and from buildings that looked like they had been pulled from Earth's past. The slavers finally made a turn off the main boulevard onto an equally busy side street.

Finally stopping in an open courtyard lined with cells they began to unload their 'merchandise.'

John looked around at the complex. There appeared to an auction block at the far end, currently empty. However, there did seem to be a variety of different peoples working out deals with the various traders. Slaves were trading hands left and right, it was enough to make him sick; or maybe that was the concussion.

"Well, isn't this just homey?"

At that, John turned and gave Rodney an incredulous look, which settled into a more comforting grin when he saw the naked fear in his friend's eyes.

"Just add a touch of color and it'd be downright inviting," he quipped back. "Ah, looks like we're next.

The slavers came over and unlocked their door, taking out each person one by one. The slavers asked each individual what they had been before their capture, then placed a metal collar on the person as they were put away. The person doing the asking was obviously the chief-asshole, judging by the way he looked at even his own guards.

"Hey! Wounded man here," John heard McKay yelp as the guards roughly pulled him up by his good shoulder.

"McKay," John muttered warningly as they were dragged to the front to be analyzed and tagged, at least that's what it felt like.

John watched as the astrophysicist was dragged forward, praying the man would keep his mouth shut. He might as well have wished to be back in Atlantis.

"Where the hell do you think you're taking us?"

John clenched his jaw in frustration; the man just didn't know when to shut up. The slaver looked down at McKay with contempt written all over his face.

"Hmmm, damaged goods. Not exactly the fine physical specimen I'm used to dealing. However," here he paused and finally turned to address McKay, who looked quite miffed at being analyzed like a piece of livestock. "What were you before your capture?"

"A scientist. Not that that means anything to you. Lets just say that my intelligence probably outweighs tenfold that of you and your henchman combined, if not more," McKay responded with his usual arrogance.

It didn't go over well with the slavers. The man backhanded McKay to the ground. John tried to get to him, but the two thugs to his sides kept an iron grip on him.

"A scholar, I recognize the weak body and the sharp tongue. Can you write in the language of the Ancestors? Or perhaps you are a manipulator of numbers?"

Looking up from his position on the ground Rodney grumbled up, "Both, and far better than anyone you know most likely."

"You are lucky I have a buyer in mind for you; otherwise you are fit for nothing but to stain the arena floor." He practically spat at McKay, who was regaining his feet while clutching his wounded arm.

John was worried about what that meant for them. His mind had been so focused on how to get them home, that he never considered what might happen if they were to be separated. This city wasn't small; if they were sold to separate people…

He was brought back from his mussing as he heard Rodney whine in protest as a heavy metal collar was snapped on his neck and he was dragged to a cell in the wall. The man who seemed to control their fate then turned to a squirlish man behind him.

"Go find the Senator, tell him I have what he's been looking for."

John wasn't sure he liked the eager tone of the man's voice, but it was his turn next.

The man walked around him, appraising, analyzing.

"And you were?"

"A soldier"

The look John gave him could have frozen an entire ocean.

"Ah, yes, perfect. He's perfect for the arena, that anger will make him a good sell." The slaver had now turned his back on John, moving to the next cart in line. Feeling the cool sensation of metal on his skin, his eyes attempted to bore holes in the back of the slavers head. He felt a jerk on his arm and was roughly led into a group cell, where Rodney now sat huddled in a corner. John walked over and slid down the wall to sit next to his friend. Now that he was sitting still, the pounding in his head came back with a vengeance.

"So, what's your crazy plan to get us out of here," a familiar voice said to his side. John turned and looked at Rodney. Seeing the naked fear in the scientist's eyes he couldn't bear to tell him the truth, that he had no plan.

"Still working on it."

"What! Colonel, they're going to sell you off to the highest bidder, and apparently I'm already half sold. You don't have a clue what to do. We're going to die on this god-forsaken planet-sized litter box."

That headache had just doubled in size. Rodney was right, not about the dying part, John had no intention of dying, but about him having no clue. They were about to be sold off like cattle, and there was nothing John could do about it.

* * *

Rodney awoke in the middle of the night to the soft sound of voices that could be heard as they moved across the courtyard. 

"He's damaged."

"It's his mind you need. Anyway, the wound will heal with time."

"How much?"

"Fifteen hundred pars"

As he slowly became more alert Rodney realized they were referring to him.

"As I said, he is damaged I will not pay that price. If you do not find a buyer, he will go to the arena as fodder. I doubt you could find another willing to pay what I am, and you will get next to nothing for him as fodder. One-thousand, no more."

"So be it. You will take him now then."

"Of course, I want that woman off my back as soon as possible. Have him taken to the villa by sunrise. You will receive your payment by first bloodshed tomorrow."

"It will be done. Thank you Senator"

Rodney tried to move, to tell Sheppard what was happening, but in his weakened state, he was unable to wake the Colonel.

Two guards walked to the cell holding Sheppard and McKay. One removed a small box from a pocket, while the other opened the door. The guard with the box depressed a small button, and suddenly Rodney blacked out. The guards moved his limp form to a cart outside. Dr. Rodney McKay was now the personal property of Senator Garai.

TBC

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** A/N**: Due to those lovely things called mid-terms it may take me awhile to post the next chapter. Curse you economics! But hey, the next chapter starts getting into the fun stuff. cracks fingers in anticipation 


	4. Chapter 4

**  
CHAPTER 4**

"What do you mean he's been sold?"

John stood at the edge of the cell gripping the bars with bone white knuckles. The guard merely lifted his eyebrows as if to ask, "What do you think?"

When he'd woken up that morning he'd been shocked to see that McKay was gone. Then after a good deal of shouting and empty threats, one of the guards had simply said, "He's been sold." What kind of an answer was that?

There was a sudden roaring in his ears and a sinking feeling in his gut. McKay was gone; sold, in the middle of the night.

As the man who had delivered the news turned away John shouted out one last question, "Who bought him?"

This was his only hope to possibly find McKay later. Receiving only shrugged shoulders in response, John returned to his piece of wall. He closed his eyes against this new developing headache. This was so not what he needed. How the hell was he going to get them home now? He hadn't had a clue how to get them out before, but at least they'd been together. Now, with Rodney who-knows-where enduring who-knows-what John felt despair creeping in. He pondered his options as the morning 'meal,' if one could call a bowl of brown molasses food, was served. However, he didn't have much time before the noise in the courtyard overwhelmed any dark thoughts he was entertaining.

Lifting his eyes from his bowl, Jon looked around to see what the commotion was about. All around the large complex the slaves were being taken from their cells one section at a time and being put in a mass corral behind the 'stage' John had noticed yesterday. A crowd was quickly gathering in the courtyard. Composed of the obviously wealthy and those well off, it was clear to John what was about to take place, a slave auction.

* * *

When the first man was dragged to the frond of the stage, His arms and legs were locked in heavy steel cuffs. Stripped from the waist up, the man was then poked and prodded by the auctioneer, who was rambling off the man's many 'assets.' Watching from his cell as this human being was robbed of dignity and treated like livestock was making John ill. For the first time since waking up to find his friend gone, John was glad Rodney wasn't here.

John's gaze wandered to the crowd. He noticed that some of the buyers were going around to the sides and talking to the slavers who hadn't brought their 'merchandise' out yet. It wasn't much longer before a man came to talk with the man who was selling him. When the two stopped in front of his cage, John's ears perked up. Maybe he could get a clue as to who this slime-ball liked to sell to.

"Now here we might find more of what you're looking for Marcus."

John warily looked over the new arrival. This Marcus guy looked straight back. There was a coldness in the man's eyes that set John on edge.

Cutting the slaver off mid-sentence, Marcus asked in a sharp clear voice, "Where did that one come from?" All the while never letting his gaze waver from John's.

The slaver jumped at the sudden interruption, only a slight tightening of his lips displaying his displeasure at having his sales-pitch interrupted. The expression left his face instantly when he suddenly realized whom Marcus was referring to. Snapping his fingers at the guards, he then motioned towards John.

A greedy expression crossed the man's face as he answered Marcus's question. "Ah yes that one was captured near the Ring of the Ancestors. Apparently he was a soldier of some sort on another planet. He put up quite the fight; managed to kill one of my expugnators."

By this point John had been lead out of the cell to stand in front of the two men. He couldn't resist making a comment at this point.

"Hi, Marcus. John Sheppard, United States Air Force. Nice to meet you."

The cocky, sarcastic expression was wiped off his face by the vicious backhand that he got in response.

His ears were ringing as he refocused his attention on the two men in front of him.

"Hmm, he is a spirited one." Marcus said this thoughtfully as he began to circle around John, appraising him the same way someone might look at a fine racehorse. The inspection came to a pause as Marcus stopped behind John.

"That was sustained when he killed my man. A superficial wound, it will heal quickly." The slaver hurried to explain the bandage at the base of John's skull.

_Superficial my ass!_

"Superficial my ass! You gave me a concussion!" John glared at the slaver. He could tell the concussion was wearing off, but quite frankly he didn't like this guy very much, seeing as how he had just sold Rodney off in the middle of the night.

However, he guessed he was about to get his reward for that little comment. At this point the slaver took out a small box from his robes. After that all John felt was pain. It was like every muscle in his body was contracting simultaneously. It was like being electrocuted at the same time as you were having a seizure. As quickly as the pain came it left. John blinked as he looked blankly up at the sky. Well, at least he had an idea what those collars they had put on earlier were for. They were some sort of control device.

Feeling himself dragged up by the arms, John quickly tried to regain his footing. He realized that the slaver and the Marcus-guy were arguing about something.

"…perfect for your company. Eight thousand."

"You will get no more than Seventy-two hundred. This is more than reasonable for a untrained, uncooperative, _damaged_ slave."

"Hmph. He is in better shape than many you've bought from me in the past. Seventy-eight."

"You will have to do better than that. Though his quick mind lends itself to the arena, it means he'll be that much more difficult to teach. Seventy-two fifty."

John's head was spinning from the combined effects of the concussion, the ringing hit, and that last experience, but he gathered that Marcus was buying him, and that he was going to be trained to fight in some sort of arena. Crap.

"You are trying to rob me. Seventy-five."

"Then auction him off. But in that dazed state, he won't sell well. Seventy-three, final."

"Done."

"Done."

"Have him prepped and ready to be transferred with my other purchases."

"Right away."

* * *

After regaining his senses John had found himself being hosed down and being given new clothes to wear. It was a basic tunic and belt, along with a pair of leather sandals that laced up the calves. He donned the outfit with minimal complaint and watched in anger as his uniform; his last piece of Atlantis was thrown in a small bonfire. After that he'd been loaded onto a cart, similar to the one he and McKay had been in during the first part of this nightmare. Six other men were loaded into the cart and they were taken back out into the city. Fortunately these men were a bit more talkative than his other cellmates had been so far. So, John decided to find out what he could about this planet.

It turned out that these gladiator games were the all important event in town. Everyone from government officials to the homeless would follow the games. He also learned that famous gladiators were known by everyone and revered above even the highest authority figure. The games sounded almost identical to the ancient Roman version, at least from what he remembered from Spartacus and Gladiator. Those were some good movies.

The cart lapsed into silence as they approached the Colosseum. John made a decision at that point. As much as the idea of killing for the entertainment of others sickened him, he knew that that was the only way to survive this. If he was going to get out of this and get McKay he also knew that one of them was going to have to find the other. To do that John realized that he would have to make sure that McKay was able to find him, by making a name for himself here. And if Atlantis started searching the city, they'd be sure to find him as well.

As they passed through the gates into the gladiator center, John steeled himself for what was to come. He didn't have to like it, but he would do whatever the hell it took to get him, and McKay, off this goddamn planet.

* * *

"Name" 

John looked at the small man in front of him with a cheeky smile before responding, "Spartacus."

He received only a slightly irritated glare in response. John had thought the name rather appropriate; a slave who incited a rebellion, he would've liked to give it a shot.

"Okay, not Spartacus then." Sighing John replied, "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard."

Writing down the information on the scroll in front of him, the man simply gestured to the side, where a rather large man stood next to a table of weapons.

After arriving in the gladiator center, they had been directed to a smaller separate section that John guessed was reserved for this Marcus guy and his troupe. He'd then been shoved in the general direction of tiny-scroll-guy. Now it looked like he was getting his first dose of what was to come.

Moving to the table John looked over the weapons. They were all wooden representations, but still looked like they could cause some serious pain. There were several swords, a few axes, and a rather wicked looking thing that resembled a quarterstaff with a short sword on the end. He would have loved to give that a try, but decided he should choose something that he may actually be able to use. That's when his eyes fell on a set of long thin sticks that reminded him remarkably of Athosian fighting sticks.

_Thank you Teyla._

Picking them up he turned to the man he assumed was going to be his opponent. Okay, maybe he should have paid more attention to practicing with Teyla; the guy was huge. The man looked at John's choice, and then picked up the quarterstaff-type thing. Oh yeah, this was going to be 'fun.'

He followed his opponent into the clearing in front of the tables and raised the sticks into position.

What followed happened fairly quickly. John managed to hold the man back for a little bit, but he was on the defensive the entire time. Due to his opponent's large sizes he was required to keep the sticks together to stop the force. This, and the residual effects of his concussion, slowed his speed significantly. Soon he felt a heavy smack to the side of his ribs, followed by a strike to his knees. This move brought him to the ground. He was able to block the strike to his throat, but he needn't have bothered. A "halt" was called almost immediately.

Breathing heavily John got to his feet, and turned to see Marcus watching next to the scribe.

"He shows some skill, but will need extensive training. Put him down as a blade-dancer." Seeing the look of confusion on John's face he clarified, "Dual-swords wielding."

John turned back to the table at this point and set down the sticks. Leaning against the table, trying to feel for broken ribs, he heard Marcus say one final thing.

"Training starts this afternoon, after his wounds have been treated"

_Great.

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_A/N:_ Sorry it took so long to get up, but now that mid-terms are done, updates should come more frequently. And thanks again to all you lovely reviewers!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Well, here it finally is...Chapter 5. Thanks to that wonderful thing called college, my writing isn't progressing as fast as I'd like, but look this chapter's nice and long. So that makes up for it right? Real quick I'd like to give a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. Your thoughts are more appreciated than you know. Now on to the story!

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**CHAPTER 5**

A slight figure watched from above as the slavers cart was driven into the courtyard. As the cart came to a stop a large woman and older man walked out to great it. When the back of the cart was opened, the woman's voice rose in irritation. The boy couldn't hear what was being said from his perch, but he recognized the tone in the housekeeper's voice. It was the one she had used just last week when he had been caught stealing juja fruit from the orchard. He winced at the memory and then perked up with interest as a limp form was dragged out and dumped unceremoniously at the housekeeper's feet. The man made a hand motion towards the doorway and as the cart rolled away the unconscious figure was loaded onto a stretcher, with special care given to the left shoulder, and taken to the healer's building apart from the house.

The boy gave a soft sight and returned to staring at the stars through the braches. So that was his new tutor, a wounded slave. He wondered absently how much his father had actually paid for such rubbish. No doubt his mother would be satisfied with the purchase. _Oh yes_, he thought bitterly, _their boy had a tutor from another planet. Even Senator Agrippa's son's tutor was from the river valley._

He almost felt sorry for the man; his father was not kind to slaves, least of all to those more intelligent than himself. _Which would be almost anyone_, the boy scoffed. His father found physical and political prowess to be far more important than knowing how the universe worked. This new slave would find his world a cold place to try and survive in.

As the child's thoughts turned darker than the sky he stared at so intently, he slipped from the tree and back into the window of his blackened room.

* * *

When Rodney finally woke up the first thing he noticed was the feeling of a mattress underneath him. It was hard and would probably wreak havoc on his back, but it was a mattress all the same. It also felt like someone had treated his shoulder properly, judging by the suspicious lack of pain as he moved around to see exactly where he was. 

Blinking to adjust to the light, Rodney found himself in a small white room, furnished only with the bed he was on. There was a tiny window set in the wall above the bed, through which the sunlight was streaming in. A doorframe, minus the door, was directly across from the window. There was also a pile of clothing set next to the door.

It was at this point that Rodney realized his currently unclothed state. He rapidly tried to pull the sheets closer around him, but hissed in pain as he attempted to move his shoulder. He turned his head to inspect the injury. His arm had been wrapped across his chest to prevent movement, something he hadn't noticed till he had tried to move it. Okay, so by looking at the bandages and judging off the amount of pain he'd just experienced he was better, but not fully healed.

Gingerly reaching up to the metal collar still around his neck, Rodney wondered exactly how advanced these people were. First there was that 'pain-stick' he had the pleasure of enduring earlier, and then they'd knocked him out with this collar. Now it looked like his shoulder was closer to healing than it should have been after only one day. What was going on with this planet? They looked and acted like primitives, but some of their technology suggested otherwise.

He was so lost in his musings that he didn't notice the woman who appeared in the doorway.

"Ahem!"

Rodney jumped at the sudden intrusion. The first thought that entered his mind when he saw the figure across from him was that she looked a lot like Mammy from _Gone with the Wind_; not that he'd ever admit to having seen it, but the selection of movies on Atlantis during that first year had been rather limited.

In his flustered state, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where am I, and where the hell are my clothes?"

At this the imposing woman simply reached down to the clothes on the floor and threw them at Rodney.

"These are your clothes now. You better put them on and get to the main hall quick. Get a move on, you've slept too long already." As she turned around to leave she said one last thing. "I'm Prisca, the 'keeper here. Welcome to the house of Senator Garai."

"Wait…what…where?" Rodney could only sputter incoherently as Prisca left.

Giving suspicious looks at the door-less opening, Rodney inspected his new attire. Wonderful, not only did they give him their equivalent of sackcloth to wear, but it looked like he wasn't going to be getting any privacy either. Maneuvering underneath the bed sheet to get dressed took some doing, but there was no way Rodney was letting anybody just look in on him getting dressed. Soon he scrambled out from under the covers and readjusted the semi-sling around his arm. Looking at himself, he frowned in annoyance; he was definitely not a fan of dresses, skirts, kilts, etc on men, let alone on himself. _Note-to-self: Never let Beckett find out about this._ That is assuming he ever saw Beckett again. After tying on the red belt, at least that's what he thought it was, and slipping on the wooden sandals, Rodney decided he should probably try to go find this main hall Prisca had mentioned.

Peeking his head out the doorway Rodney ventured out into the long hall. He could see he was in the first room in the hall, which was lined with other rooms exactly like his own. He must be in the slave quarters. Now, how exactly did he get out of here?

After a great deal of getting turned around, of course they would have to paint every hall the same shade of white, Rodney was able to find his way out of the slave quarters and into the house. If he hadn't been in such a rotten mood, what after being shot, captured, and sold to a politician, he may have been impressed by the place. The marble-like floors shined similar to foggy mirrors, and the motifs on the wall were impressive, not only in their size, but also due to the obvious skill of the artisan who carved them. Stepping out into a hall with arched ceilings, Rodney realized he had reached the man hall. And standing at the far end was a man he recognized from the night before.

Senator Garai was a tall man. Rodney thought the senator had that look of someone who could have been a star athlete when they were younger, but all the beer and pizza had finally caught up with them later in life. However, no matter the man's physical condition, the look he sent in Rodney's direction let him know that the Senator was not the sort of man to mess with. Of course when had that sort of thing ever stopped him before? Rodney marched across the hall, a determined look plastered on his face. But before he could put his foot in his mouth the Senator spoke.

"So you have some spirit after all. Shame." This statement made Rodney freeze mid-stride. _What the hell did that mean?_ He wasn't given time to ponder the question as the Senator turned and gave one simple command, "Follow."

Now, Rodney didn't respond well to orders given to him by his friends, let alone ones given by strange aliens politicians. "Wait just a minute! Where am I and why am I here?"

The look on Garai's face made Rodney begin to second-guess the wisdom of opening his mouth. "If you were to have obeyed your commands, you would have found out. I will not tolerate defiance again. Follow."

Despite the obvious threat, Rodney stayed frozen in position. "No, you answer my questions right now, or I'm not going anywhere."

The next thing he knew was pain, pure intense pain. When the pain finally stopped Rodney found himself lying on the floor, his view of the ceiling swimming about in his vision. Okay, so he now knew those collars could do more than just knock people out. The next instant he found himself being hauled to his feet and eye to eye with Garai.

"Next time I will not be so kind."

That was kind? Rodney really didn't want to find out what unkind meant, his self-preservation instinct ran to deep for that. So when the Senator started to walk, Rodney followed.

As they walked through the house Garai, began to talk.

"You were bought because my fool wife believes our son should have a tutor. The slaver said you had skill in the language of the Ancestors and in number manipulation. Was he truthful?"

"Yes, I'm skilled in both of those areas." Rodney wasn't about to say no even if it wasn't true.

"Then you will teach my idiot son what you know."

After this they walked in silence, but Rodney's mind was anything but. He didn't like this guy. The tone of voice he used while referring to his son set Rodney's on edge. It was familiar in a way he preferred not to remember.

It wasn't long before they reached a door at the top of a flight of stairs. When Rodney stepped through after Garai he could see a figure bent over a table against the far wall of the room. This must be the Senator's son.

"Caius!" At the shout from his father, the boy spun around. To Rodney's eyes the boy looked thin and malnourished, frail would be good word to describe the boy's appearance.

"Yes Father?"

"This slave is to be your tutor; he will accompany you wherever it is you go and teach you in whatever it is your mother wants." Finishing his statement, Garai gave the boy a long look, and then abruptly left the room. Leaving Rodney alone with the kid.

Rodney noticed the cowed behavior Caius had exhibited when his father was in the room was replaced by something darker when the door shut.

"So, do you have a name?" There was a bitter tone in the boy's voice Rodney recognized far to well. He wasn't exactly a kid person and being forced to be around one all the time, and teach it things, wasn't sitting well with him. Especially not after seeing the sort of 'father-son' relationship these two had going on. It reminded him too much of his own past.

Quelling his own dark memories he roughly answered, "Dr. Rodney McKay, astrophysicist."

"Rather long name." Oh yeah, Rodney was going to enjoy this experience.

"It's my name, title and occupation. How old are you anyway?" The sneer on his face indicating that he thought this boy was too young to know anything of real value.

"I've seen sixteen floods. How old are you ancient one?"

"Well, if by floods you mean years, then thirty-seven. Which isn't exactly ancient, but certainly older than you." Rodney crossed his arms and couldn't help but wonder how exactly he was supposed to teach this _kid_ anything.

"You know number manipulation?"

Sighing Rodney answered, "Its called mathematics, and yes far better than you I'm sure."

After this the two simply glared at one another, before Caius turned around and began walking back over to the table he'd been at earlier.

"Well, if you're supposed to be my tutor then why don't you show me? I've been working on some calculations for a magnetic generator. Perhaps you could be of assistance."

Rodney stalked over to the table and looked down at the papers strewn across the surface. Picking up one of them he immediately recognized the equations for a tesla coil.

"I've been trying to figure out how to create a current in one coil using the magnetic field in another…" The boy trailed off at the incredulous look on Rodney's face. Suddenly Caius' voice became defensive. "Despite what my father may say, I am intelligent. If you have anything at all to teach me I will be an eager student. I am not some arena brute Doctor."

Rodney stood there in silence for a moment. This boy reminded him so much of himself; he had a family that obviously didn't give a shit about him, looking at the papers on the desk told him the boy was extremely intelligent, and he had a defensive streak a mile wide.

"Well first you need to look at your magnetic flux equations. You should look at the flux of the inner coil and relate it to the flux on the outer coil."

"Really? I thought the outer flux was the only thing that mattered."

Yup, he might get along with this kid after all.

* * *

It was purely by accident that Rodney met Garai's wife, and Caius' mother, Agrippena. He'd been trying to find his way back to the slave quarters when he'd walked into a room filled with women. The room was incredibly lavish. Every surface, including the women, was draped with expensive cloth and jewels. The air was heavy with the smell of incense. It was this last attribute of the room that Rodney blamed for what happened next. 

A slight figure in the center of the room had stood up and asked him what his business was. He couldn't remember his exact response, but he vaguely recalled saying something about the Senator's wife and her friends being in danger of using up all the available oxygen.

Which is how he ended up lying facedown on the cold stone floor with blood seeping from the fresh wounds on his back. It turned out Agrippena was just as bad as her husband; only she had a strange penchant for blood and whips.

Using his good arm Rodney tried to push himself to his fee, but only slipped on his own blood, bringing his head crashing back down to the floor. It wasn't until Prisca hauled him up, that he was able to move.

"Foolish man. Your mouth is going to get you killed. Get it through your head; you're a slave now. Do what the masters say, you won't have anymore troubles." After her little tirade, the woman began to drag Rodney out of the room.

Rodney tried to help by shuffling his feet, but every movement sent a wave of fresh agony across his torso. He was so lost in the pain that he didn't realize they'd sopped moving till he felt himself being lifted and placed on a small bed.

Rodney quickly came back to his senses at an all to familiar smell, antiseptic. Hospitals always had the same smell, whether you were in the Milky Way or Pegasus Galaxy.

Well there was no way he was letting these Neanderthals do their voodoo on him. He quickly started to protest, eyes screwed shut, when he felt a hand against his back.

"Ow, hey! Hands off. Just let me die in peace." He attempted to say this with as much authority as possible, but just ended up sounding like a tired, petulant child.

"You're not dying. But if you don't let me treat you, you very well may."

The calming voice convinced Rodney to open his eyes. Fighting off the haze of pain, he saw a tall older man standing next to Prisca. The lack of collar around his neck surprised Rodney, but it was the look of kindness in the man's eyes that convince him.

"Fine," he managed to force out.

He wasn't sure how much time passed while the man worked on his back, mainly because he passed out as soon as the man began prodding his butchered back. However, he was shocked at the lack of pain as he regained consciousness. And was even more surprise when he realized it wasn't due to pain medication, but instead because his wounds had already closed and were beginning to scab over.

Looking suspiciously around the room he had been put in, he spotted the doctor putting something back on a shelf. It was time to find out exactly what was going on with this planet.

"Not that I'm opposed to miraculous healing, but how exactly does such a primitive society do that. Not to mention develop a highly technical method of pain inducement?"

The doctor turned around in surprise at the sudden alertness of his patient.

"Well, it is good to see you up Doctor McKay. How are you feeling?"

Rodney wanted answers, and he wasn't going to wait for the doc to do a checkup. "Fine. Now um…"

"Secundus."

"Yes well, Secundo, how about answering my question. How does a primitive desert society have access to higher technology without the Wraith interfering." Here he paused, "You do know who the Wraith are right?"

Rodney waited for an answer, growing more impatient with each passing femtosecond. The doctor was just sitting there. However, before Rodney could explode the doctor launched into a lengthy answer

"Yes, we know the Wraith. They come every hundred floods or so. However the government of our people decided that for our society to survive they would go into hiding during these times. There is a small facility underneath this city where the Senate can wait out a Wraith attack. The only reason I know of it is my status as personal healer to Senator Garai. The system has been a very effective means of keeping the city mostly intact. Over time there have been several technological advances, however these are not widely implemented, for it would only draw the attention of the Wraith. Most of our advances have been medical. This is how your wounds have been healed so quickly. Within a week's time your back will be fully healed and you will have regained limited use of your arm." Secundus stopped briefly before asking, "Does that answer your questions?"

Underground bunkers, hidden technology. It reminded him too much of the damn Genii. At least he'd be healed in a week, assuming he could keep his mouth shut that long. _Ha, yeah right._

"Yes, it does. Thank you"

* * *

Over two weeks had passed since Rodney was separated from Sheppard in that hellhole of a slave market. He was well on the way to regaining a full range of motion in his arm. Miraculously he'd managed to avoid direct contact with either Garai or Agrippena within the last week, so he had been feeling ten times better. Currently, he was giving Caius a lengthy lecture on magnetic fields of solenoids. However he wasn't really into it, he couldn't stop wondering what had happened to the Colonel after he'd been taken. He hoped the man hadn't done anything rash. It would be just like Sheppard to get himself killed without Rodney there to keep him out of trouble. 

It wasn't until Caius shouted his name that Rodney realized he had quit talking.

"Is something wrong?"

It still amazed Rodney how well he and the kid had gotten along after that first meeting.

He figured he might as well tell Caius; after all it wasn't like the boy was going to go off and tell his parents what Rodney said. Rodney sometimes wondered how Caius had managed to reach age sixteen living with such monsters. And he thought his parents had been awful to live with!

So Rodney decided to tell Caius what exactly had happened, in hopes that the kid might be able to help him out somehow. He started with the team stepping through the Stargate and ended with him finding himself in the Senator's house. Caius simply sat quietly throughout the story. That's what Rodney liked about the kid; he was respectful and mature.

"Where's your friend now?"

Rodney answered, exasperated, "That's just the problem, I don't know." Oh how he hated those three words, _I don't know_. They had to be the worst words ever spoken.

"Hmm, judging by your description of the other slaves you were with I'd say he was sold to a gladiator company."

That's right! Now that he thought about it he remembered the slaver saying something about Sheppard being in an arena or something. Maybe he should have brought this up a lot sooner.

"So how would I find him?" He looked intently at Caius.

Caius merely looked thoughtful, "Well, the annual harvest tournament will be starting in several days. If your Colonel belongs to any of the Amnis Levis teams then he will participate in the games. My father insists that I go to the tournament each year in hope I might learn how to become a 'real man'. Being my tutor, it wouldn't be too strange for you to accompany me."

"Would there be anyway to get word to him if he's there?"

"If he survives, possibly."

_If he survives_. Rodney didn't like the sound of that. Still, it was his obligation to rescue the soldier, his commander, and more importantly his friend.

"He'll survive. He's too stubborn to die," Rodney said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Caius looked skeptical. But Rodney was determined that Sheppard would survive, and then he'd bust them both out of this crazed city.

* * *

**A/N:** Next we'll check back in with John and start the tournament. However, it may be a bit till I can get the next chapter up. It's an important one and I want to make sure it's done right. Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think so far. 


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

John dropped down onto his sorry excuse for a bed, exhausted. At least today all he had were a few bruises. Teyla had always accused him of not practicing right after beating his ass into the ground. The fact that she was right was beside the point; currently his every waking hour was spent practicing, and he was still getting beaten to a pulp every day.

Marcus' insistence that John was holding back didn't help matters any either. The harsh trainer had just finished telling John that he would be participating in the match tomorrow, despite his currently exhausted state and worse performance. The man had finished with, "If you win, your training will continue. If you lose, then you are not worth of my time and effort, as well as dead."

How wonderfully inspiring.

John groaned as he got up off the bed and moved to the small water basin in the corner. Splashing the tepid water on his face, he couldn't stop the sick feeling creeping through his gut. His conscience was screaming at him to refuse to go out there tomorrow, refuse to kill for mass entertainment. As his grip tightened on the edge of the basin he shoved the voice back. Dammit, he wasn't just going to roll over and let himself be killed either.

_And it's not just for me_, he tried to convince himself. _McKay is still out there and I'll be damned if I don't get us both out of this._

Angry, either with himself or the situation, probably both, he flopped back onto the mattress. Grinding his palms into his eyes, a feeling of helplessness washed over him. And John Sheppard **hated** feeling helpless.

Tomorrow everything would change.

* * *

Blue eyes darting about nervously Rodney walked down the corridors of the Colosseum. The roaring crowded were bad enough, but his close proximity to the Senator and his bloodthirsty wife was ten times worse. The frozen looks that had been directed his way when Caius had informed them that McKay was coming to the "games" had made him wish that he were back in his tiny white room. Garai's only response had been a feral grin and the comments, "At least this way you both can see what real men are like. I hope you have the stomach for it" 

Rodney could have just given Caius a detailed description of Sheppard, but _no_ Rodney never could leave anything important to anybody but himself.

Sighing softly he followed Caius out into the small section reserved for members of the senate. The tension in the mammoth arena was palpable. Looking over at Agrippena he could swear the woman was drooling in anticipation. The bloodlust he saw in here eyes nearly made him sick, as it was he only paled dramatically before dropping into the seat the boy had indicated. He'd never been good with blood. What the hell had he been thinking, convincing Caius to bring him here? Nothing had even happened yet, and already he felt woozy!

Slowly steadying his breathing, Rodney looked around the arena. He was acutely reminded of sporting events back on earth. There were people walking up and down the aisles selling food and drinks as the sun beat mercilessly down overhead. However, in their small section, scantily clad slaves, who seemed to be there for more than just food service, were passing around the food and wine; everything was of course complimentary.

_So this is what pure gluttony looks like._

"Isn't she fantastic?"

Rodney started at the whimsical adolescent voice and turned his gaze to the teenage boy next to him, who was currently drooling over one of the slave girls. Rodney turned to look at the object of the boy's affection. She didn't appear to be more than twenty years old, but was still offering her "services" to the lusty old men around her. He noticed the prominent collar around her neck, slightly more elegant than his own, but it still served the same purpose. Rodney was truly and utterly disgusted.

"Hmm, yes. Of course I prefer women to girls, no accounting for taste."

Caius didn't seem to register a word he'd said.

"Her name is Iris, she services both the senators and the winning gladiators and is the kindest soul you'll ever meet. She's been a favorite of my father for several years now, I don't know how she stands it."

Rodney snorted his agreement with the last statement, when he realized exactly what the boy had said.

"She's in contact with the gladiators?"

If Rodney was right and Sheppard was in one of the gladiator troupes, then they would need a way to communicate with each other. If this girl were as kind as Caius said, then maybe she'd be willing to carry a message for him.

"Hmm," Caius muttered, snapping back to reality. "Yes, she is…"

Rodney watched as the boy's brain quickly caught up with what he'd been insinuating.

"You can't possibly expect her to…" Caius sputtered indignantly.

"Why don't you introduce me, and find out, hmm?"

Caius looked like he was about to refuse when the girl took notice of them and started to walk over. A small figure with black hair, golden skin, and an open smile, Rodney felt a pang of sympathy for the sort of life she must lead.

"Caius, it is good to see you. Is this the tutor your mother spoke of?" the submissive voice asked, gesturing towards Rodney.

"It is good to see you as well Isis," Rodney almost laughed at the breathlessness in the boy's voice. "And yes, this is my tutor, Doctor Rodney McKay."

The girl looked at him with empty eyes, "Doctor." A deep resounding trumpet sounded and the dull roar of the crowd thundered higher, clamoring for violence and blood.

"Perhaps we can speak after. I hope you both enjoy the games."

Rodney nodded as the pallor returned to his face; somehow he didn't think that was going to happen.

* * *

The howling of the crowd above mingled with the sound of crashing steel, and John stood stock-still as the outfitter went around tightening all the straps to his armor. All reservations about what he was about to do had been placed in the back of his mind by the time they shoved on his helmet. 

John stepped forward to get his weapons. He'd been amazed the first time he used them at their strength and flexibility; the two blades were remarkably thin. He simply held one in each hand as he approached the door. Any extra equipment would only get in his way.

When he heard the call for him to walk out, his mind was filled with a clean emptiness. All that was left was the ruthlessly efficient soldier.

When Sheppard stepped out into the harsh sunlight, it was like watching some sort of figure from legend taking center stage. For a moment John stood like a gleaming golden statue, his bronze covered armor and helmet reflecting the sun, the twin blades held steadily in front of him. Then, as he suddenly started moving forward the crowd broke into a thunderous roar; nothing was better than watching a new gladiator.

But John couldn't hear the screeching din surrounding him; his senses were all keenly analyzing the size of the arena and searching for his opponent. When his eyes caught sight of the figure emerging from the shadows only one word entered his mind

…_crap_

The man looked to be around six feet tall, and was wielding an ashandarei. The sword tipped staff was extremely difficult to wield, but remarkably dangerous when mastered. And John could tell right away that this man knew what he doing. Marcus really did want him to win or die trying, didn't he?

As the two men approached one another John crossed his weapons in salute, before rushing forward. As blade and staff met John looked into the other man's eyes and saw only death and blood lust, and with that John's resolve was set.

What followed was like a violent dance. John spun about, ducking to avoid the blade brought towards his head. He swung for the legs of his opponent, who jumped back to avoid the swords. John had no idea of how much time passed as he swung, ducked, rolled and lunged. Each time his blades came up against the ashandarei it felt like hitting a brick wall. John could feel the sheer strength behind the weapon. But for all the man's strength John realized that that was all there was, strength but no speed. John's smaller size was to his advantage he was able to move out of the way of any heavy blows.

John couldn't keep up the pace when a flurry of blows followed his every move, and when the blade next came down towards him he could only misdirect the blow. The blade caught his thigh and he could feel as it sliced through the skin. Hissing in pain he rolled to the side, avoiding the following blows. As he stood up, John gratefully realized that it was only a flesh wound; the blade hadn't reached deep enough to cut muscle.

John now garnered all the speed he could to try and reach past the heavy defense. He struck out from behind with his left blade, was blocked, and suddenly reversed directions to strike a heavy blow with his right blade to the unprotected skin below the man's arm. John continued around and ducked allowing his momentum to bring his left arm into contact with the man's leg. The howl that followed this move let John know he'd finally caused some damage. He quickly stood up and brought his blades to the front to block the incoming blow. This strike however was able to make contact with his left shoulder, John barely able to deflect it enough to not remove his entire arm.

Blood was spilling freely now from both men. However, John's last blow had slowed down his opponent even more. John dropped his left blade and levered his elbow so his arm was behind his back. Circling one another slowly, each man knew that the next contact would bring the end. Taking one final look into his opponent's eyes, John rushed forward.

Ducking to avoid the blow aimed at his weak shoulder he lunged for the man's middle. John's blade slid seemingly effortlessly into his opponent's side. And as the other man began to fall John slowly stood up, allowing gravity to pull the blade from his hand as the dead body it was embedded in fell to the ground.

Gasping, John knelt over, gripping his knees. He didn't even register it at first, but slowly he acknowledged the rushing sound invading his silence. And when he did he thought he might be knocked over by the sheer force of sound rushing down over him. The screams of the crowd were overwhelming. He carefully pulled off his helmet and reached down to grab his sword. Slowly he looked around the arena.

_So this is what I almost died for. To entertain a bloodthirsty mob. _

In disgust he gave a mock bow, and grinned sardonically as the roars grew even louder. With that he marched off their bloody stage, followed by the amplified voice of an announcer, proclaiming him as "Your victor, The Shepherd".

* * *

Rodney slid back in his seat, slowly releasing the death grip he had had on the seat in front of him. As he watched John stalk back off the arena floor, Rodney brought a shaking hand up to his eyes. One clear thought managed to pervade through his horrified mind, _I've got to get us out of here now_. 

Seeing the slave girl Iris walking by, Rodney grabbed her wrist. She paused and looked down in confusion. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was paying attention he pulled her down.

Whispering as softly as he could Rodney asked, "You sometimes interact with the gladiators, correct?"

She nodded.

"That gladiator who just won, is there anyway you could deliver him a small message for me?"

She drew her eyebrows together slowly, "That would depend on the message."

With a sigh he answered, "Nothing treasonous or anything like that. Just tell him that McKay currently the property of Senator Garai."

She looked at him for a brief second. "I will try and do as you ask."

Rodney nodded his thanks and let go of her hand. Turning his attention inward, Rodney went over the current situation. He now knew for certain where Sheppard was, and hopefully Sheppard would know where Rodney was. All he had to do now was come up with some sort of escape plan.

Right, piece of cake.

* * *

_A/N_: A big I'm sorry to everyone for the long wait for the update. I hope I didn't lose too many readers. I blame it on a deadly combination of writer's block, RL, and sheer laziness. Thanks to all the reviewers and those of you who encouraged me to keep going. I promise I will finish this; hopefully without any more two month breaks. Anyhow, let me know what ya'all thought! Next time we'll see about trying to get our boys back home, with some bumps along the way of course.  



	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

John couldn't sleep. He was exhausted, there was no doubt about that, but he just couldn't fall asleep. He tried blaming it on the dull throbbing of his shoulder, but he knew that he was just lying to himself. His mind couldn't stop replaying what had happened earlier that evening.

_John was getting his shoulder wrapped when Marcus walked in. The trainer just stood there watching as John's arm was bound to his chest._

"_Congratulations Sheep Herder, you lived." _

"_Yeah, I think I noticed that." John winced; of all the planets to get stuck on, it had to be one where there was a herd animal called a sheep. People had been calling him "The Shepherd" all day. He actually missed McKay and his sheep jokes; usually reserved for Carson, John was sure McKay could have come up with something for the current situation. God…he hoped McKay was all right. That man had a penchant for trouble._

_Marcus' next comment tore John away from his reverie. "You are a talented killer. However, tomorrow we will work on your timing. You bring things to an end much to quickly. You show promise."_

_The glare John sent the trainer in response could have melted through the SGC's iris it was so full of hatred._

_The man merely chuckled, "Oh yes, definitely promising."_

John sighed, closing his eyes. _A talented killer_, Marcus had said. Dark faces flitted in front of his eyes. Each one, representing a life he had ended.

The heavy clink of his cell door being opened stopped his dark litany. A slight figure carrying a tray stepped inside and closed the door. John sat up in surprise. It was a small, beautiful girl with a slave collar around her neck. The tray she was carrying had several jars and strips of cloth. She bobbed slightly, with her eyes down on the ground.

Coughing slightly to clear his throat John asked, "So, um, what's going on?"

Lifting her eyes, the girl looked at John, "As a reward for your great victory, I am here to service whatever needs you may have."

John's eyebrows shot into his hairline when he realized what she was implying. "Um, listen, I…how old are you?"

"I have seen nineteen floods." John couldn't help but grin slightly at the defensive look that briefly entered her eyes.

"Yeah, I don't really think I'll have any need of your 'services,'" He stated as diplomatically as he could. He felt a pang of sympathy when he saw the tension leave her shoulders.

"Please, at least let me tend to your wounds. I am a talented healer," she implored.

_Better than a talented killer_, he thought briefly. Then he smiled, his first real smile in this hellhole. Who would have thought that he'd actually run across a kind soul in a place like this?

"Sure thing. But first, what's your name?"

She quickly walked forward, placing her tray on the bed beside him. Kneeling, she gently reached for the bandage on his thigh. She looked up at him briefly and said, "Isis."

It didn't take John long to find out that she really was a skilled healer. Whatever was in those little jars, quickly took away whatever pain he'd previously felt. He passed the time making what appeared to be small talk about the city, but was really his way of finding out what he would be facing in escaping and trying to find McKay. What he found out was hardly encouraging. The city was huge; his chances of finding McKay, if he even managed to escape himself, were miniscule.

It was when Isis was finishing up re-bandaging his shoulder that she suddenly became very quiet. John noticed her hands started shaking slightly.

"Um, is something wrong?"

Her eyes darted towards the door and back before replying, "No, I simply have a message, of sorts, for you."

John's heart suddenly started to beat double time. "Yes?"

The girl's voice dropped to a whisper, "I was told to tell you that, 'McKay is the property of Senator Garai.'"

Finally, something had gone right. A million questions flooded his brain, as he tried to get more information from Isis.

"Did he ask you to tell me this? Where was he? Is he all right? Did he say anything else?"

Her eyes went nervously to the door again as she began to gather her things. "Yes, I met with him during the games. I service the Senators when they come. Your, I assume friend, is the slave of Garai and tutor to Caius, his son." She stood up quickly. "I must go."

"Wait." He had to get a message back to McKay. "Next time you see him tell him…" Tell him what? That they would find a way out of this? To stay put? It's not like either of them had a choice. "Tell him to keep out of trouble, and that I'm working on a plan." It wasn't a total lie; he was working on a plan, he simply didn't have one yet.

Isis looked at him warily, fingering her collar. John realized what he was asking her to do, but if they managed to get out of this, he'd be sure to bring her along. Isis gave one last long look into his eyes. Apparently seeing what she needed, she nodded and left.

John grinned as he lay back on the bed. Things were looking up. He had no trouble falling asleep now.

* * *

_Alley in Amnis Levis _

"I, uh, deal in gladiators and hard labor. I would certainly remember selling any scientists."

Teyla looked impassively at the small man, noticing the waver in his voice and the way his eyes darted nervously to Ronon. She nodded slightly to the Satedan, who took a few steps forward.

"Maybe you should think a little harder then." Ronon said, letting his hand rest his pistol.

Teyla frowned; her patience was growing thin. "We know that you are the trader who sold The Shepherd. He had a scientist with him, who was his buyer?"

The man gave a soft nervous chuckle; one that Teyla assumed was supposed to convey a sudden remembrance. "Oh, that one! Yes I recall the man now. I'm afraid I don't remember the buyer."

Teyla grimaced internally as she saw the greed in the other man's eyes. They had been looking for the Colonel and Doctor McKay for several weeks now. Atlantis had jumpers scan the entire surface of the planet. She and Ronon had searched two separate cities bordering the river, before coming here. Finally, they had heard word of a gladiator called "The Sheppard." Not believing in coincidence, they had tracked down the slaver who sold the man, hoping it would lead them to their missing teammates. She would not let this despicable man stand between them and finding the location of the final member of their team.

Apparently neither would Ronon. Moving faster than one might believe someone of his size would be capable of, Ronon had the man pressed against a wall, pistol at the throat.

At that point the man began blubbering incoherently. All Ronon did was cock one eyebrow, and it morphed into something intelligible.

"I…I sold him to the Senator. Senator Garai. I'm not sure what he wanted him for. That's not my job. I'm just a seller. I didn't know…I mean…please don't kill me!"

Teyla allowed a feral smile to flit across her face. "Thank you for your help. Ronon," she said nodding to her companion. Ronon whipped his pistol across the slaver's head, knocking the man unconscious. Seeing Teyla's look of disapproval he simply shrugged.

She sighed, and then smiled her first true smile since realizing John and Rodney were missing. Together she and Ronon left the alley to convey the good news to the rest of Atlantis.

"He's working on a plan! What kind of bull is that?" Rodney shouted to thin air, Caius was studiously ignoring the rampaging scientist; he'd been like that since they got back from the arena.

"I mean he's probably trapped inside a tiny little cell surrounded by obscenely huge guards. How exactly is he "working on a plan" when his every waking moment is probably being forcibly devoted to learning more gruesome ways to disembowel other human beings?"

At that Caius glanced from the telescope at his window to give his tutor an incredulous look. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Don't you give me that look!"

Still Rodney quieted down. It wasn't like his panic attack was helping him come up with a plan, though he had to admit he did feel a little better having blown off some steam.

"Right, so, back to my plan."

"Your plan, since when did you come up with a plan?" Caius asked laughingly, turning fully from the window.

"My _prospective_ plan," Rodney said, glaring at the boy.

"Alright, let's hear it then."

Giving Caius one final derisive look he began to outline his ideas. "Well for starters we have to find a way to get him out of that damned complex."

"Obviously."

"Yes, obviously." Rodney was beginning to think he'd been hanging around Caius far to often, though it wasn't like he had a choice. It was either that or play whipping boy to the happy-go-lucky parents. "Is there any way that we could possibly see him? I mean your girlfriend Isis did a fine job passing on our little communiqués, but it'd be a lot easier to plan a breakout if I could talk to him in person." Rodney didn't mention what it would to for his peace-of-mind as well.

Caius nodded thoughtfully. "It's possible, as a senator's son I have access to several special privileges. I might be able to arrange something." Stopping suddenly, a grin broke out on the boy's face. "Actually…and I'm surprised I didn't think of this before, high-ranking officials, like my father, often have private performances by their favorite gladiator, like at parties and things. If I could just convince my father to have your Colonel perform at his next party…"

"Then he'd be ten times easier to snatch. And I wouldn't have to escape first; two escapes for the price of one." Rodney jumped at the idea. Snapping his fingers and slapping his fist in his hand he grinned. "This could work."

Caius smiled nervously at the older man. "I'm not exactly sure how to convince him to get your friend as his next performer. Not to mention, he's not that big on parties, unless there's some political reason."

Looking sharply at the boy Rodney commented, "Despite your parentage, you're not stupid. You'll think of something."

The huge grin that broke out across the boy's face at Rodney's psuedo-comment made the man squirm slightly. In spite of how close the two had gotten over the past few weeks, Rodney was still uncomfortable with showing any sort of affection. After all, he still didn't like kids.

However, he had made up his mind about one thing.

"Ahem, yes, well…just so you know. When Sheppard and I do manage to escape from this…you are coming with us. I mean, you don't have to come back to our planet…just out of this city."

"What?"

Rodney winced at the shocked question. "You don't really think your father is just going to sit back and ignore that fact that you've been helping us. I mean, he may be a mindless Neanderthal, but I'm fairly certain he'd incriminate you even if you weren't helping us."

Caius sat in shocked silence, his brow furrowed. Turing slowly back to look out the window he whispered, "I know. I don't want to know, but I do."

Rodney fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, now that that's been settled, I'll just, um, head back to my room, huh?" Rodney didn't even wait for the slight nod he was given in response. He turned quickly towards the door, high-tailing it out of the uncomfortable situation.

_Better he face it now, than wait till he gets hurt._

Rodney sighed; he couldn't wait to get back to Atlantis, back to his lab. Machines and numbers were so much easier to deal with than people.

* * *

_Atlantis Gate Room _

"We have determined both of their locations."

An audible exhale of relief swept across the gate room. Elizabeth could feel the tension easing slightly from her body. She had been beginning to wonder if they would ever find the two men.

"That's excellent news. Return home and we can begin talking about their extraction," she said, allowing some of her relief at the news to enter her voice.

The euphoria she had first felt didn't last for long. Once the situation was explained to her she rubbed her temples in frustration. This wasn't going to be as easy as she thought.

"The gladiator complex is heavily guarded and very large. It might be possible to enter the complex undetected, however it would be near impossible to locate and remove Colonel Sheppard without complication," Teyla summed up her report.

Elizabeth had already expended so many resources on this search already. She wasn't going to start throwing away the lives of others as well. "You said that Rodney was the property of a Senator Garai, correct?" she asked, glancing at her notes.

"That is correct." Teyla and Ronon shared a questioning look, not understanding the purpose of the question.

"Do you think there might be a way to buy him back," Elizabeth frowned at what she was suggesting, buying back a valued member of the team from an alien government.

Teyla looked thoughtful. "There may. However, I am unsure of how one would arrange such a transaction."

"What about Sheppard?" Ronon growled discontentedly.

"I'm not sure. However, at this point I think it might be beneficial to open up relations with this world." If she could gain a better understanding of how these people did business, then maybe she could do this without violence. Though when dealing with a culture which killed people for entertainment, she doubted it.

A skeptical look passed between Teyla and Ronon, they appeared to share the sentiment.

_

* * *

__Amnis Levis Colosseum_

John wanted to scream. If he hadn't already been surrounded by thousands of screaming voices he would have. It had been two days since he'd first heard from McKay. He hadn't heard from them sense. Now here he was looking at another dead body, bleeding at his feet. Turning roughly from the sight he limped out of the dusty arena to the waiting medics.

It hadn't been any easier this time around, but he was dreading that if he was here long enough he might. One could become callused toward killing. He already had no problem going up against the enemy in battle, but this was different. That man hadn't done anything to him. Well besides turn his leg into a shish kabob, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he could see it in those other men's eyes, they had no feelings of remorse; to them killing was just a way to survive, to live.

He watched impassively, only wincing slightly as they pulled the knife from his left thigh. It was then that he saw her coming toward him, the girl that was in contact with McKay. Isis, was that her name?

"I will take it from here, thank you," she said to the medics around him.

He looked around, gauging if there was anyone within listening distance. It didn't appear so, not with the raucous noise of the crowd outside. Still he kept his voice low. "Any news?"

"Doctor McKay is up in the stands. He told me to tell you he's come up with a…solution." She kept her head down, seeming to giver her focus entirely to cleaning out the hole in his leg.

"Really?" He followed with a sharp intake of breath as she began flushing out the sand from the wound. Their medicine was effective, but damn it hurt sometimes.

"Yes, Caius had me suggest to the Senator that you should be the private act for his next evening party. He has never turned down my suggestions in the past."

"Wait," John hissed, surprised. "You mean that I'll be in the same place as McKay for a whole evening?" John allowed himself a small smile. _Way to go McKay._

"Yes, that is all I can tell you at the moment. I do not know when the event may take place" She finished cleaning up his leg and wrapping it in silence.

John was all too happy to be left to his own thoughts. It would be difficult to coordinate an escape without communication, but this was too good an opportunity not to take advantage of. No matter what happened this would be their moment.

He spent the next two days coming up with possible scenarios and plans, conveying them to Isis, who then passed them on to McKay. She also provided him with information on the layout of the Senator's complex. John wasn't sure how exactly he had managed to drag her into this, but he was sure that he'd make it up to her.

When Marcus informed him that he'd be giving a private performance to a certain senator, he'd shown the proper degree of surprise, but inside he was worried. They hadn't had enough time to come up with a detailed plan. Still this was it. Tomorrow night he and McKay would escape, there was no other option.

* * *

_Atlantis _

Elizabeth smiled internally as she walked through the gate. Even though she hadn't been able to find a way to buy back the missing members of the expedition, she now had the perfect opportunity to steal them back.

She turned to Teyla and Ronon, who were waiting for her to come back. "Good news, we've been invited to a party at Senator Garai's house. Where a certain gladiator will be providing the…entertainment."

Stopping briefly to share a look with the two, she then turned to Major Lorne. "Major I need a covert team made up to accompany me as my 'honor guard.' And I want a plan drawn up, a detailed plan that covers every possibly situation. We're getting our people back tomorrow night."

* * *

**A/N: **First off, a big thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. I never thought this would get the response it has. Cookies and a day with the character of their choice for everyone! 

Anywho, I hope this answers the question of what everyone else has been up to. But why do I get the idea that things aren't exactly going to go well for them. ;) Hope everyone liked this chapter. Reveiw and let me know your thoughts, it makes for a better story!


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

McKay groaned as he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He had barely gotten any sleep last night, which he was used to. However, he wasn't used to the lack of coffee. _Ah, coffee, sweet nectar of life._ At that thought a crooked smile crossed his face. As of tomorrow morning, he intended to be enjoying a cup on a balcony on Atlantis.

However, his brief reverie was smashed with thoughts of doubt. He and Caius had spent all of last night working on the finishing touches of their plan, which he hated to admit but wasn't really that solid. After all, he only had two days to come up with something, not to mention that escape plans weren't exactly his specialty. Collapsing back on the bed, he looked up at the stark white ceiling. Doubt assailed him as he mentally recapped everything he thought could go wrong.

After following that rather dreary train of thought for a while, Rodney dragged himself off the bed. He steeled his thoughts, as he slowly got dressed. He couldn't panic, not today. When he was safely back in Atlantis he could rant and rave all he wanted. But for now, it was time to get to work.

He still had some minor adjustments to make on what he hoped would act as a remote control for the collars. If they weren't able to get those off, their escape attempt would be just that, and attempt.

Going to get some breakfast, Rodney stumbled out into the hallways. And had his mind been less occupied, Rodney would never have found himself in the situation that followed.

"Slave!"

At the high-pitched shriek Rodney cringed, which was not the right response. It was only a small jolt, but the surprise of the small shock made him yelp.

"Pay attention." Agrippena stood looking down her nose at him, her finger wavering over the control button for his collar.

Rodney bit down every rude sarcastic retort, and seething glare, instead turning his eyes towards the floor and muttering a barely controlled, "Yes, ma'am?"

"There will be a social event this evening at the estate and I want you there to attend Caius. However, your mouth is something I don't wish to make an appearance. Is this understood?"

Her arrogant and patronizing tone made Rodney's teeth grind. He inwardly fumed at the woman's superior attitude. Frankly, he was surprised that was all she had to say. Agrippena usually regarded him with complete indifference, when she wasn't causing him bodily harm that is. So, Rodney gave a curt nod and a "Yes," before quickly turning to go.

It turned out that his assessment of the situation was premature.

"I don't trust you to hold to that, so you will be wearing a special collar that will also silence your tongue. Report to my husband immediately to get your current one changed."

A deep sense of dread filled Rodney. The collar release control he'd build had been designed with the collar both he and John had received when they were captured. There just wasn't enough time to study the new collar and see if the release was compatible with the makeshift control. Not to mention his apprehension at the prospect of loosing his voice. Still, it wasn't as if he had a lot of choices, or any choices at all.

One thought entered his mind as he walked towards Garai's office.

We're dead men

* * *

John languidly leaned against a wall, waiting as they loaded up his armor and weapons. He couldn't help but allow a small smile to touch the corner of his lips as he thought of leaving this place behind forever. 

His eyes slowly followed Isis as she walked out from the healer complex, slipping a small package into the folds of her robe. McKay had given her a list of chemicals, that when combined would create a gas to knockout any sort of opposition they might encounter during the escape.

Speaking of his guards, apparently they were done loading equipment and looking for him now. He slowly shoved off the wall and began moving towards the cart, until he was intercepted by Marcus that is.

The broad-shouldered man stood frowning in front of John.

"What's up boss?" John asked jovially, a slight grin on his face.

Marcus' frown deepened, making John's grin wider.

"I have invested a great deal of money in you and your training. I don't know what you're up to, but I will not have any of your antics tonight. If you win for the assembly, your standing, and along with it your value, will increase considerably. I won't have you jeopardize that," Marcus lectured firmly.

"Of course sir," John agreed with another grin. Inside however, he wasn't smiling; a nervous feeling had taken up residence in his gut. Maybe you should have kept a better reign on his emotions.

Marcus looked at John skeptically before giving a sharp nod of his head towards the cart and a curt, "Get in."

Giving the man a sloppy salute, John practically bounced into the waiting cart.

The ride to the senator's estate took less time than John thought it would. Before he knew it he'd been bustled out of a courtyard and into a plain white room with one window and a mattress. He unceremoniously flopped down on the mattress and watched his equipment being placed in the room opposite his.

Now all he had to do was wait for the sun to go down and the party to start.

* * *

Staring at the large stone city-gates, Elizabeth felt a sense of awe. It felt as if she was truly traveling back in time to one of the great ancient cities on Earth. She vaguely wondered if this was how the first expedition that went through the gate had felt when they laid eyes on Abydos. 

The trip through the city seemed to take no time at all. As they pulled into the estate, she glanced at the team surrounding her. Teyla and Ronon appeared relaxed, but Elizabeth could sense the underlying tension and eagerness there. Major Lorne, as well as Sergeants Stackhouse and Penhall all had guarded expressions and it was easy to tell they were all in a state of heightened alertness. Elizabeth silently wished that she could have brought more people, but this had to be pulled off quickly and quietly and the more people, the more chances that something could go wrong.

Their transport rolled steadily into the courtyard, where several other dignitaries were arriving. The soldiers were silently mapping and analyzing the layout and security. Seeing the large slaves guarding the entrances and exits gave Elizabeth pause, but a reassuring smile from Major Lorne helped to assuage some of her nerves. Politics could be very "cloak-and-dagger" but it usually didn't involve having your life on the line.

A butler of sorts greeted them, leading them down an enormous hallway to an inner courtyard and dinning hall. Elizabeth could have gasped at the extravagance displayed there. Huge gold-inlaid pillars separated the frescoed dining hall from what looked to be a lush garden. Swallowing her admiration for the architecture she stepped forward to where their escort was announcing them as "The 'Lantian ambassador and her escorts."

Plastering on her best smile Elizabeth ventured into the room. It was time to prove her worth as one of the best diplomats in two galaxies.

* * *

"We should wait until the feast has been going on for a while." 

Rodney frowned at Caius before scratching out a retort on a piece of slate. The two were in Caius' room, arguing about exactly what course of action to take. Granted, Caius was doing all of the talking, but Rodney was making sure he was heard anyway.

Caius sighed in resignation as he read the comment, "Yes, I know we'll be cutting it close, but the longer we wait, the less chance there will be of someone interfering. They'll all be too drunk to care."

Throwing up his hands in concession, Rodney spun around on his chair to make a small adjustment to a device that had been left on the table. His movements were a bit more aggressive than normal, and Caius could feel the anxiety and anger radiating from the man.

Rodney barely acknowledged Caius as the boy left to go "make an appearance" at the gathering downstairs. In the now silent room, Rodney reached a shaking hand up to touch the heavy collar encircling his neck. Suddenly he picked up a hammer, hurling it at the wall. He wanted to scream, rant and rave so badly, but every attempt to speak caused him physical pain. Talking was the only outlet Rodney had to panic and nerves, and these bastards had taken that option away from him. Logically he knew it was only temporary, but his emotions currently weren't listening to logic and as a result they were spiraling quickly out of control.

Snatching the collar control device out from its hiding place, Rodney resisted the urge to use it now on himself and shoved into a makeshift pocket. Rodney stalked out of the room, and by the time he had reached the dining hall he'd managed to regain some semblance of composure. He slipped quietly through the slave entrance into the loud, crowded and very drunk room. He felt another small wave of panic as he thought of trying to find Caius or Isis in this mess. Pushing down is instinct to flee the room he ventured into the mass of humanity.

Fortunately he didn't have to go far before he caught sight of Isis, who was surrounded by several men. Despite her occupied state she caught his gaze almost immediately and nodded almost imperceptibly towards Rodney.

Keeping to the wall, Rodney moved back towards the door, relieved that he had managed to avoid any confrontations so far. However, just as he was leaving he thought he saw someone familiar out of the corner of his eye. Moving quickly he exited the room, anyone familiar in this crowd was unlikely to be friendly. Not to mention that the timing of their escape was critical, and there was no time to lollygag.

_Lollygag? What kind of word is lollygag?_ Rodney grimaced as he walked towards the slave quarters. He must be cracking; his inner voice sounded far too much like Sheppard.

* * *

Elizabeth almost choked on her drink when she saw Rodney McKay slip out of the room. Quickly, she shot a subtle glance over towards Ronon and Lorne, who were nearest that entrance. It was easy to see that Ronon was chomping at the bit to go after his missing teammate, but at a slight shake of her head and a restraining grip by Lorne he settled down slightly. Still, she didn't know how much longer he would hold. 

Carefully she diverted her full attention back to her conversation with the senator.

The man was dangerous, of that much she was sure. While almost everyone around them was quickly falling into a drunken orgy, the senator was behaving as if the continuous cups of wine he was consuming were just water.

She turned her gaze on the slighter figure standing next to the senator. "Caius, I hear you have a tutor from a different planet."

The boy shifted nervously, as his father looked down imposingly at him. "Yes, that's right. We're the only family with such a privilege. My father has the connections to get anything."

"Which is precisely why this trade agreement will be so prosperous. Wouldn't you agree Doctor Weir?" Garai's appearance suddenly became much more amicable as he turned towards Elizabeth. But before she could give the appropriate placating response, another voice interrupted.

"Pardon me Senator, but may I request a word."

Elizabeth was surprised to see that the voice belonged to a young girl, a slave if that really was a slave collar around her neck. She was even more shocked to see the way the senator responded; there wasn't a trace of displeasure in the man's figure.

"I thought perhaps the guests might wish to see the performance before they are too…out of sorts." The girl spoke with the utmost respect, but Elizabeth could hear the subtle tones that hinted of manipulation.

Strangely Garai didn't dismiss the slave out of hand, instead agreeing with her. "Certainly, perhaps you could go make sure the gladiators are ready."

The girl responded with a simple bow, turning to go.

"I'll go too father." The nervous tones of Garai's son broke through the older man's pleasant demeanor, and the senator turned a frown on the boy, merely gesturing after the slave girl.

Elizabeth watched as the boy practically ran out of the room, but a good amount of tension seemed to leave his face before he got there.

"I hope you are looking forward to the performance tonight Doctor Weir. The two gladiators I have procured are considered to be the best in the city at the moment." Though the comment was meant to be light and conversational, Elizabeth noted the way the senator's gaze seemed to shift towards the exit his son had left through.

Something was definitely wrong, and all Elizabeth could do was hope it didn't have something to do with Sheppard and McKay. But when were those two not at the center of trouble.

Taking a long sip of her wine, Elizabeth responded nonchalantly, "Yes, tonight's performance should certainly be interesting."

* * *

The two thumps from the doorway jolted John awake from where he was dozing on the mattress. Swiftly and quietly he crossed the five-foot span to the door. Peeking his head around the frame he was greeted to the sight of his two guards slumped on the floor and Isis making a small bottle and rag disappear into her robes. 

"It's about time!" John stated, stepping fully into the hallway. "The sun's been down for a while now in case you didn't notice."

"I noticed. We need to keep moving." Isis turned to face him a worried look covering her face.

"Right just let me get my equipment."

He crossed the hallway to the room where his fighting equipment had been placed. He figured that there wouldn't be another opportunity to get any other weapons, so he figured the time he'd need to suit up was worth it. As he finished strapping his swords across his back he turned to Isis, who was nervously watching the hallway, and asked a question that'd been bugging him since he first saw Isis standing over the two large men in the hallway.

"How'd you take care of my 'escort' anyway?"

"Hmm? They're men." She sent him a slightly quizzical look before turning back to scrutinizing the way out.

Fully geared up he moved to join her. "And where's McKay and that kid? It's time to go."

At that moment the two other members of their party came barreling around the corner, causing John to involuntarily reach for his swords.

Relaxing slightly, John could feel an internal weight being lifted as he saw McKay's face. Inside, John hadn't really believed that McKay was okay, but seeing him here looking irritated as hell, John couldn't help the smile that was forming on his face.

"Well McKay, what do you say we hightail it out of here?"

John felt the feeling of unease returning as Rodney didn't say a word, but merely gestured as if to say, "Well, lead on then."

The boy, Caius if John remembered correctly, spoke up before John could ask any questions.

"My mother had a specialty collar placed on him. He is unable to speak, and any attempt to use his vocal cords will cause extreme pain."

John felt bile rising in his throat as he stared at his friend and teammate, who was stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.

Caius continued, "However, that is currently unimportant."

"Unimportant!" John hissed finally giving the boy his full attention, along with a heavy glare.

However, Caius merely straightened his shoulders and met John's glare with one of his own, "Yes, unimportant. What is important is that we get out of this house as soon as possible. I believe my father suspects something. It won't be long before he sends someone to find where I have gone. So, if we want to be caught we can stay here talking, or…" He ended with a gesture very similar to what McKay had used only moments before.

"Lead the way then," John said, his eyes glancing over to McKay's tense form. John could tell the man was bursting at the seams to say something, anything probably. Giving Rodney a quick pat on the shoulders, John turned and followed Caius as he moved towards the escape tunnels.

* * *

Rodney should have known things were going too smoothly when they reached the tunnel entrance without incident. The pitying looks he was getting from Shepard were bad enough, but the eerie quiet that followed them through the house was far more grating. So when he heard the familiar voice of Senator Garai behind them he wasn't too surprised. 

"I thought I told you to never disobey me again slave. And accompanied by two more slaves and my own son…I don't think that I can let you live this time."

Rodney sent the pompous, bulbous, loathsome Senator the most withering gaze he could muster. Even as he watched the man pull out the control device to the collars, his glare didn't let up. He only stopped when the pain started.

It was unlike anything he'd experienced before. The fire seemed to shoot straight through his every nerve ending, and as he tried to scream, he thought he could feel his throat being ripped to shreds. Rapidly all rational thought was gone, and all that was left was the pain. Soon, there wasn't even that.

* * *

**A/N: **I'd like to start off with a big apology, as well as some groveling, for how long it's taken me to get this chapter up. That being said, I promise that I _will_ finish this fic, its just taking longer than I'd like. Blame the CSM Physics Dept. They seem to think that there are an infinite number of hours in the day. However, summer is coming up, and hopefully the end of this story...we are approaching the finish line believe it or not. 

So, groveling out of the way, I hope everyone enjoyed this installment. I know I'm evil, leaving our favorite physicist on the edge, but I just couldn't resist the whumpage. Reviews will make him feel ever so much better I'm sure ;)

Let me know what you think, and hugs for all reviewers: past, present, and possible future.


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